


From The Heart

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anniversary, Bar Room Brawl, Breakfast, Drinking, First Kiss, Fist Fights, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s an important day, and while making a special breakfast for his beloved boyfriend, Scout reflects on how he and Engineer got together, while it turns out Engineer is doing the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Heart

Scout bit his lip in concentration, carefully lowering the metal cookie cutters into the hot pans with bare fingers, trying hard not to burn himself. Satisfied with their placement in the twin, well-greased pans that sat atop the base's stove, he busied himself pouring pancake batter into one set, then cracking eggs into the other. This was gonna be perfect.

He smiled at the sight, the heart-shaped cutters giving form to the breakfast he was making. Engineer would love it, sure surprised to see him get up early and make him a big, totally not burned breakfast on their special day. His eyes would go wide, and he'd run his hand across his stubbly head and smile that crooked smile of his; that smile that made Scout feel soft and squishy inside, that made his stomach do flips and a shaking energy rise into his shoulders to make him ball in on himself at the very thought of it. He sighed contentedly at the thought, imagining the older man's laugh of joy and love and appreciation, his big, rough hand sliding around Scout's own, fingers lacing together as he brought the younger man's knuckles up to his lips for a kiss. Shit, he was lucky.

Was it any wonder he'd fallen for Engineer, though? That raspy, masculine voice, that wheezy laugh, that furry chest and those strong arms? The way he could convey dangerous menace while still keeping the complete air of amiable friendliness he was so known for? The years of education and real-world knowledge that boiled behind his eyes, constantly percolating new ideas and how to implement them, while still finding the processing power to allow him to be the most charming and charismatic man to ever grace Scout's presence? He still remembered when this had all began.

They'd been close from the first day they'd arrived on base. Once he'd unpacked, the first person on base, Scout made it a point to make a sweep of the grounds and learn it all. He wanted to be used to his new surroundings and wouldn't be able to calm down until he'd seen it all. When he'd passed a large, garage-like workshop and found a stout, soft-voiced Texan unpacking a whole crate of equipment, he couldn't help but stop to chat.

Scout had always been a talker. In a family his size, you had to say a lot and say it loud for any of it to get through the din. But he'd never had somebody just listen to him. Just smile, and chuckle, and listen to him, responding in turn but never once trying to control the conversation. He found himself wanting to hear more of Engineer, the more Engineer heard of him. And when the older man lifted his goggles and looked up at him with those bright blue eyes, he couldn't find any more words to speak anyway.

So it came that the two quickly became inseparable. Engineer never once treated him like a child, never called him stupid even though he wasn't the strongest reader or speller, or came to him for all of his mathematical needs. He never made him feel like less of the man that he was: a capable mercenary who could maintenance his weaponry, defy the physics of jumping, and murder a man with a tube of wrapping paper. Most importantly, when Scout had come out to him, told him about how he was attracted to men and women in equal measure, he didn't have a single word to judge him with. He accepted it as just another part of his friend.

Scout lifted the cookie cutters, tossing them into the sink and shaking the pan cooking the pancakes. Time to see if he still had the magic. With a flick, he tossed the half-cooked cake into the air, juking to the left to catch it perfectly in the pan with a loud sizzle. Perfect pancake flip, as always. He chuckled to himself and took the eggs off the heat, easing them onto the plate with a plastic turner. Over-easy, just how Engineer liked them.

Friendship turning into something more, these days, seemed like a complete no-brainer. It was going to happen. It was meant to. How the hell it didn't happen sooner seemed baffling to them both. But back then, back when there were things unsaid between them, when glances were stolen and fleeting touches were treasured for more than they were intended to be, it seemed like a distant dream at best. Thinking back to that night, Scout remembered three very important things. He remembered booze. He remembered blood. He remembered the flutter of his insides when lips met and stubble grazed his smooth jaw.

 

*

 

Good bars were hard to come by in the desert, doubly so when you actually had any standards. Unfortunately, as soldiers of fortune, neither Scout nor Engineer had room to hold any standards when their reputations had begun to precede them. Often bars would deny them entry outright, and the few that did were dives, full of noise and smoke and rough people looking for rough drinks to pour down their rough gullets. But the opportunity to drink outside of the base and just have some time to themselves, to get away from the others for a while semi-anonymously, was enough to drive the two mercenaries into the diveyest dive that ever dove one warm summer night.

The beer was piss water, and lukewarm to boot. But to Scout and Engineer, sitting at a table at the back of the room and chattering amiably, it was enough to suit their needs. Rising above the din, Scout's hard New England vowels rang through the smoky room as he told his best friend stories of when he was a child and how he won his first fight. A dirty move, of course.

“So I feel to my knees, right? Beggin' for mercy, like. 'Aw jeez, come on, man, I didn't mean nothin' by it! Come on, if show up at home with another black eye I'll probably be out on the street!' That sorta thing,” Scout chuckled, his hands flying as he mimicked his own gestures, hands steepled before him like he was praying to some wrathful god. “An' then when 'e gets close enough, like 'e's gonna grab for my shirt to lift me up, I rocked forward on my knees an' gave 'im an uppercut right between the legs. Bats in the bellfry, man. Sucker dropped like a sack 'a crap an' then I kicked 'im in the ribs until 'e started cryin'. Fucker never gave my cousin shit after that again, though.”

“That's dirty pool, rackin' a feller in the balls,” Engineer chuckled around a swig of beer. “No comeuppance?”

“Oh hell yeah, 'e turned 'is attention on me after that. I got in fights with the asshole like every week. But 'e left Catherine alone, an' that's what's important,” Scout reasoned with a shrug.

Engineer looked up from his beer to see a large shadow grow over them. A tall, broad man had approached their table, clad in torn jeans and a flannel shirt over a t-shirt. His frown looked painful to wear. “Can I help you?”

The man snorted at Engineer, turning his attention to Scout. “You. Yankee. What makes you think yer welcome here?” he asked, his voice thick with shades of Missourri.

Engineer sighed. Wonderful. A good ol' boy who thinks he owns everything south of the Mason-Dixon and feels the need to police it. “Now look, partner. We're just here to have a drink--”

“Did I look like I was talkin' to you, boy?” the man practically spat, turning his attention back to Scout, who squinted up at him incredulously. “Now you got until the count of ten to get out of this bar before I make you leave.”

“Sounds like you're already tryin' to make me leave,” Scout shot back. “Ain't neither way gonna work or anythin'. You clearly don't have any idea who you're talkin' to, so I'll cut you some slack this time, alright? So you go on ahead an' sit back down with your buddies over there, an' I'll go back to talkin' to my buddy over 'ere, an' I'll let this all slide. Sound good, pally?” A self-satisfied grin crossed his buck teeth as he sized up the taller, broader man.

“You tellin' me what to do?”

“I'm tryin', but it's obvious you ain't followin'. Do I gotta use smaller words for you? Maybe draw you a chart or some shit so you get it through your thick-ass head?”

“That's it!”

 

*

 

Engineer sniffed at the air, following the heavenly aroma wafting down the halls of the base. It was coming from the mess, and he assumed that where the smell of pancakes were, so would be Scout.

It had come as a surprise when he'd woken up alone, having spent the night curled tightly around the younger man pressed to Scout's back, where his lover would shift and snuggle in closer as he slept, relishing the feeling of the thick coating of soft hair on his chest and belly rubbing against his smooth, tanned skin. He would also rub his bottom against the older man's groin, seemingly just to get a rise out of him. Literally and figuratively.

Padding sleepily toward the mess in pajamas he only wore for the express purpose of padding sleepily to mess, Engineer found his thoughts drifting to the night before. To the love they made, to soft touches and gentle kisses and whispered words of adoration. To the comfortable settling-in of two exhausted men under the sheets, drifting off to slumber together. He couldn't remember what it was like to sleep without Scout.

It had been interesting, getting to know the mouthy young mercenary, so full of bravado and energy. He saw past it nearly instantly, to someone who'd never had any positive attention paid to him, only earning the consideration of others when he was loud and brash enough to force it to be given. To someone who craved camaraderie, companionship on equal terms. To someone with an enormous heart and an endless list of amusing, if violent, anecdotes to amuse. He took to Scout right away.

Scout wasn't intimidated by his degrees, or his family history. He wasn't scared by his knack for machines of war and never felt overwhelmed by the fact that Engineer objectively knew more than he did about most things. If anything, it interested the younger man more, bringing him closer rather than keeping him at bay.

Most of all, they had something very important in common. Something Engineer had trouble, for a long time, admitting to himself. They shared an interest in men. Knowing he wasn't alone, wasn't isolated, had someone nearby who knew that feeling and would stand beside him were it to become an issue with the team, meant the world to the cagey Texan, and though he played his own hand close to his chest, he always made sure to keep Scout's just as close. He'd been trusted. Possibly for the first time in his life, someone actually cared enough to trust him with something that didn't involve machinery.

He hadn't pursued Scout, no matter how attractive he'd found him. Though they shared similar inclinations, he was sure Scout wouldn't be interested, being half his age and all. Beside that, their friendship was too important for him to risk on the off chance there might be something there. These days he couldn't help but laugh at how paranoid he'd been, how oblivious to Scout's attention, but back then, so much wasn't spoken that should have been. At least, until a catalyst was added to start the reaction.

 

*

 

“Now, look, fellas, there ain't no need to--” Engineer tried, holding his hands up and trying to calm the stranger and his friend. The last thing they needed was to get arrested. Again.

The good ol' boy turned his fury on Engineer, sizing him up with a laugh. “Yeah? What're you gonna do about it, short stuff? I thought everythin' was bigger in Texas! My business is with this Yankee son of a bitch, so you just mind yer own, you traitor.”

Engineer bristled, his voice growing more quiet, more severe, gaining that viciously threatening edge that made gooseflesh rise along Scout's arms. “You're walkin' on thin ice, son. And I suggest you leave my friend and I be before I teach you the lesson in manners your poor mama wasn't able to drill into your fat, ugly head.”

The stranger balked for just a moment, taken aback, then cocked back his fist, ready to fight. He didn't get the chance.

A chair slammed into the back of the good ol' boy's head, making him double forward just enough for a pair of clasped hands to come down on the back of his neck and drop him to the floor. Scout's nostrils flared as he stood over his opponent, blood boiling.

“You lay a hand on Hardhat an' I'll rip it off an' fist you with it!” the young Yankee snarled, kicking the fallen man in his ribs. From behind, a pair of hands snatched Scout's arms, tugging them behind his back. The asshole had backup, great. Scout shoved himself backward against his assailant, rearing forward and slamming his head back to collide with the other man's face and knocking him away as he heard a cry. His skull rang, an electric ache ripping from back to front and settling behind his eyes, making them blur for a moment, leaving him to stumble blearily as he saw another assailant coming from the front.

He was a big ugly mother fucker with a denim jacket and a bandana over his balding head. Scout watched in amusement as Engineer calmly stepped out behind him and kicked his knee out from the back, doubling him forward onto the floor. From there it was a simple matter of clocking him hard in the back of the head to send him the rest of the way down. That crooked grin welcomed Scout as their eyes met.

The tell-tale screech of wood on wood signaled more people standing, the commotion threatening to grow. Engineer looked to Scout, who grinned wide. “Welp, I reckon we ain't gonna get to finish our beers, looks like.”

“Ah, it's shitty beer anyway,” Scout shrugged with a laugh, cracking his knuckles. “Plus, it's been, what, a good three months since our last real bar fight? Let's have some fun!”

“Demo's gonna be sore he missed this one.”

 

*

 

The gas station bathroom smelled terrible, and had a sticky floor. It was possibly the least sanitary place either mercenary had seen, except for maybe Medic's infirmary. As such, it wasn't the worst place either had tended to their wounds.

Scout chuckled, sucking on a bleeding knuckle, his eye puffy and purple and his chest aching. “Always see you fightin' with that wrench, I always forget how good a left you got.” Leaning on the cleanest wall, beside the sink, he watched as Engineer soaped up his knuckles and cleaned them out as best he could. Streaks of red tangled with the water running down the drain as he rinsed them, wincing a little at the sting.

“Shucks, ain't nothin',” Engineer demurred, looking conspiratorially to his young friend. “Ain't like those headbutts you throw all the time. How your face says so pretty with all you do to it I'll never know.”

Silence fell as both men realized what Engineer had said. Ribbing about their appearances were common between the two men, and their team as a whole. But that had been the first time Engineer had ever said something like that.

“Pretty, huh? First time anyone's ever called me that,” Scout laughed, trying to play it off as he looked up to the ceiling. His guts grew tight, and he was suddenly very aware of how close he was standing to Engineer. Of the heat pouring off of the stout man. Of his own awkward energy building steadily toward the heavens like the flames of a bonfire.

Engineer cleared his throat, covering. “Well, ain't like yer a leathery old cuss like me. 'Least, give it a few years in the desert.”

Scout chuckled at that, suddenly very nervous and a little sick for it. Nothing like this had ever happened before. There was never any kind of tension between the two of them, and now, it was so thick it began to choke them. Time to change the subject. “Hey, uh, sorry for gettin' us in that mess, man. I probably could'a mouthed off a little less.”

“You kiddin' me, son? That big son of a bitch was gunnin' for you. Besides, I started the first punch,” Engineer countered, drying his hands on paper towels he hoped were at least somewhat disease-free. He turned from the sink to look at Scout, at the split skin of his knuckles and the bruises that ran up his forearms from blocking hits. He frowned, seeing his swollen eye. “I'm the one who should be sorry. Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” Taking hold of Scout's wrist, he led him to the sink, carefully easing his knuckles under the running water.

“Ow! Shit!” Scout yelped, trying to yank his hand away.

“Shoot, we get shot and blown up all day but when you gotta clean a scrape it still hurts like a bitch, don't it?” Engineer chuckled, easing his hand up onto Scout's, soaping his knuckles up with his other hand.

“Yeah,” Scout whispered, suddenly breathless as he watched Engineer's hands envelop his own. He was so close, so handsome, and he was having trouble controlling his own body's reaction to the touch.

Engineer stilled, realizing how he was holding Scout, how shallow and erratic the younger man's breathing had become, and how hot his own cheeks were. He licked his lip and bit it, turning to look Scout in the eye, only to find him staring back at him with the same lost, hopeful, enamoured expression he was sure he himself wore.

The water hissed as it rained down the drain, white noise to fill the silence that seemed to stretch off into infinity. In a moment, it was over, Scout's back bouncing off the filthy, tiled wall as Engineer's lips closed on his. Bloody, bruised hands grabbed and tugged, arms wrapping around each others' bodies like a lifeline as their breath hissed through their noses and soft grunts escaped them in the furor of their kiss. Lips parted together, tongues seeking one another to tangle and caress, to speak all of the words they hadn't given voice to. Scout ground against the wall as Engineer pressed him tightly against it, hand against the back of his head tugging him down to meet him even as their bodies pushed together. Finally, they parted, breathless, staring dumbly at one another, panting as their minds tried to process everything through the haze.

“Hardhat?”

“Scout, I--”

“Shit, man, thank God. I thought it was just me, an' it was drivin' me nuts.”

“How long?”

“Too long, man,” Scout admitted with a smile, throwing his arms around Engineer's shoulders. “You?”

“Same. I didn't think you'd go for a fella my age.”

“I didn't even know you liked guys.”

“Didn't wanna scare you off thinkin' I had motives.”

“You didn't?”

“Not at first,” Engineer teased, that crooked smile returning and melting Scout's heart.

They kissed again, this time not so furious, so desperate, but soft, gentle, and elated. Laughter bubbled up between their lips, escaping between soft smacking sounds and out of their noses, which bumped gently as they enjoyed one another.

“Best first kiss ever, in a nasty-ass gas station bathroom,” Scout chuckled, pressing his sore forehead to Engineer's.

“What say we get out of here? I'm thinkin' this calls for a nice night under the stars in the back of my truck,” Engineer offered, stepping away and offering his arm for Scout to take with a grin.

 

*

 

Engineer stepped through the mess door, his unshaven jaw falling open at the sight that greeted him.

The table was set with a two-man meal, neatly arranged. Heart-shaped sunny-side up eggs sat on plates beside buttered triangles of wheat toast, flanked by flaky biscuits covered in sausage gravy. A second plate sat beside the first on each side, filled with three heart-shaped buttermilk pancakes, fluffy and covered with butter, syrup, and powdered sugar. Orange juice and coffee sat on Engineer's side, and a large glass of milk sat on the other. Beside the table, Scout stood, waiting eagerly, clad only in his dog tags, socks, and one of Engineer's work shirts, which hung from his skinny frame, too big yet too short, barely covering him. He had the sleeves, too short for his gangly arms, rolled up to the elbow.

“Darlin',” Engineer whispered, overcome.

“Happy anniversary, Babe,” Scout announced, walking over to tug Engineer's chair out for him.

The older man took the offered seat, wondering at the beautiful breakfast set out for him. He took Scout's hand and brought the knuckles to his lips to kiss them, then tugged the slim mercenary into his lap for a proper kiss to a chorus of Scout's laughter. “You're the greatest, Darlin'. You didn't have to go through all this.”

“'Course I did. I love you, dummy,” Scout teased, tapping Engineer's forehead with a finger.

“Suppose you did, then,” came the older man's amused response. “I love you too, Scout. Happy anniversary.” Holding him close, he kissed his lover, easy chuckles filling the quiet space of the mess hall to tangle together with the aroma of breakfast, and it was perfect.


End file.
